Headlines
by DoubleDaggered
Summary: News of Voldemort's return has wrenched the Wizarding World from their blissfully ignorant lives. People want answers. With the Ministry of Magic in chaos, the Order of the Phoenix is fighting the war harder than ever. Diagon Alley is getting emptier by the minute (although Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes seems to be thriving), and the Daily Prophet is having a field day. George/OC
1. Prologue

Prologue: An Article from the Daily Prophet, 29th June, 1996

_**The Ignorance of a Nation**_

_It is, no doubt, common knowledge by now that we have been lied to. For the past year, the Ministry of Magic has been hiding the truth from us. Convincing us that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was insane. And that Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin (first class), Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was a foolish old man with a decaying mind._

_People have been quick to accuse the Ministry. But they aren't the only guilty ones. We have been lying to ourselves as well. We were not completely blinded from the truth. Potter and Dumbledore were not completely hidden from us. They were actively trying to convince people of the truth. Shouting their message at us at every opportunity. And yet only a few people listened._

_Well, now we are told the real story. You Know Who is back. And has been for a year._

Across the country, Wizards and Witches spared the cold street outside their houses last glances, before pulling their curtains closed tightly.

Some people grinned as they read the article, happy that they had been right. Afraid, but afraid of something they'd been scared of for a whole year longer than most people.

Other people glared at their papers, annoyed that a teenage boy and an old fool had been right.

A journalist sat back in her chair, smiling smugly at the recognition her article was getting.

And everybody felt terror drip through them.


	2. A Bit of Press

Chapter 1: A Bit of Press

About half way through May, 1996, a new shop opened in Diagon Alley. People who were too busy to stop stared at it as they passed, some with their mouth agape. Others ventured in, carefully, unsure of what, exactly, they would find inside. A few ran inside as soon as they laid eyes on the shop, and didn't leave until closing time.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was a blinding success, much to the pleasure of the owners, Fred and George.

The two owners had just closed up the shop for the night, and were now staring curiously at the owl perched in the open window in their flat upstairs.

George stepped forward, and removed the letter tied to its leg. The owl ruffled its feathers, and seemed to make itself more comfortable.

"How long d'you reckon it's been there?" Fred asked.

"Dunno," George replied, shrugging, flipping the letter open. On the front, written in neat black lettering, was their names and address. George looked up at his brother, and shrugged, opening the envelope.

After dropping the envelope on the table, and unfolding the parchment, his eyes scanned the letter.

"What's it say?" Fred asked, looking over his shoulder. George cleared his throat, before reading.

"_Dear Misters Fred and George Weasley,_

_My name is Freya Locke, and I am a reporter for the Daily Prophet. It has come to my attention that your recently opened shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, has received a great deal of attention and success. And I suspect it will receive even more._

_I would like a chance to write an article on your shop, and help increase its publicity. In order to do this I would like to interview you; find out why you opened your shop, if you suspected this amount of success ect, ect._

_I would appreciate it if you could reply as soon as possible, so we can arrange a time and date._

_Regards,_

_Freya Locke."_

George finished reading and looked at his brother, raising his eyebrows.

"Huh. Sounds… interesting," Fred said, reading over the letter again.

"Yeah," George replied, knitting his eyebrows together, "Are we gonna do it?"

Fred shrugged, "Why not?"

"The Daily Prophet is full of conniving, word-twisting scumbags?" George replied, "C'mon, Fred we've had enough experience of that over the last few years."

"Yeah, but everyone reads the Daily Prophet," Fred replied, "and, y'know, maybe we can slip some pro-Potter messages in without this journalist realising, and she'll keep them in by mistake. Plus… more publicity!"

George contemplated his brother's words for a second, before sighing, "Yeah I guess…" He shrugged, "Why not?"

He went to go and find some parchment and a quill to scribble a reply.

* * *

A week later, when it was near to closing time and the shop was nearly empty, a woman strolled into the shop. She was dressed in immaculate, deep blue robes, and a matching hat, with a brim that shadowed most of her face. A small smile was held by painted pink lips and her heels clicked as she made her way across the shop, looking at the colourful products with interest. A bag was kept over her shoulder, and she kept a bony hand placed over it.

She made her way towards the till at the other end of the shop, where, she assumed, one of the owners was tending to a customer. It wasn't that hard to spot a Weasley.

The customer left, and Fred looked up as the woman stepped forward.

"Can I help you?" He asked. The woman lifted her head, allowing him to see slightly more of her face.

"I'm Freya Locke," She introduced herself, holding out a hand. Her nails were painted dark red, and, if you looked closely, you could see dots of ink over her fingers.

"Oh!" Fred exclaimed, shaking her hand "The journalist?"

"Yes," Freya replied, an amused tone in her voice. Her smile widened, and the skin around her mouth creased.

"Right, well," Fred checked his watch, "The shop closes in about five minutes, so… if you don't mind waiting?"

"Of course not," Freya replied.

"Right, I'll be back in a minute. I'm Fred, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," Freya nodded.

Fred left her at the till, and she leaned against it, making herself more comfortable.

Fred passed his brother on his way to close the shop, and mentioned that the journalist was here.

"Oh right, I'll go say hello then."

George made his way to the front of the shop, where he saw the journalist. She had taken off her hat, and placed that and her bag on the counter. Her short blonde hair seemed precisely ruffled around her head, and she looked around the shop with clean looking blue eyes. She looked younger than George had expected, possibly a few years older than him. He'd expected someone that vaguely resembled Rita Skeeter.

He also thought she looked slightly familiar, but he couldn't remember where from.

As he came walking towards her, she looked up and blinked, "Oh, you're back," she said. George quirked a smile.

"Uh, no, I'm George," he replied. A slightly embarrassed look crossed her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" she started to say.

"Its alright, don't worry," George held up a hand, "Even our own mother does it."

Freya raised her eyebrows, "Surely your mother should be the one person that _does_ get it right?"

George shrugged, "Doesn't really matter. Its quite funny, really." A smile pasted over Freya's lips.

"I'm sure it is," she replied.

At that moment, Fred came back, clapping his hands together, "So, we're famous enough to get into the _Daily Prophet_, are we?"

Freya nodded, a grin forming across her face. "Yup!" she replied, rummaging around in her bag, "I know you've had advertisements in it for the past year or so, but obviously not everyone looks at adverts," she pulled a notepad, quill and ink bottle out of her bag, "do you mind if I lean on here?" She asked, gesturing to the counter.

"No, go ahead," George answered. Freya smiled her thanks, and Fred narrowed his eyes slightly.

"You don't have a Quick Quotes Quill, do you?" he asked. Freya looked up at him, amused.

"No," she replied, "Well, I do, but its at home. I don't use it. Don't worry, I'm not Rita Skeeter," She flipped the notepad open and unscrewed the ink bottle.

"So! First thing's first bit of back ground information," Freya muttered, dipping the quill in the ink, "why did you want to open a joke shop?"

Fred and George glanced at each other. A smile quirked at Freya's lips.

"Kind of obvious, isn't it?" George asked.

"We like jokes," Fred added.

"And we wanted to share it with the world!" George finished. Freya's lips spread into a full out grin, showing off a row of too-many tiny cramped teeth.

She could already tell this was going to be entertaining.

* * *

**Well, this is the first chapter (and prologue, previously) of this story. Er, I hope it turned out ok. I would really, really like some feedback, y'know, anything wrong with my grammar, characterisations, general writing style. Also, is there anything that you really like? Yeah, I'd quite like some feedback :)**

**Next chapter will be up in a few days. Its already pre-written, but its just in draft form, so... need to make it better**

**Please Review!**


	3. Familiarty

Chapter 2: Familiarity

_**Zonko, You Have Competition**_

_Anyone who has visited Diagon Alley during the past month has no doubt noticed the new store that has just opened. Its impossible to miss. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is brightly coloured, excitingly loud, and jam-packed full of products you couldn't possibly imagine. Well, in order for these products to be in this shop, __**someone**__ must have thought them up._

_Fred and George Weasley are the proud owners of this store. "We knew it would do well from the beginning," Fred told me, in an interview, "But its still amazing to see how well it __**has done**__. Its fantastic!"_

_If you have not yet been to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, I highly recommend it. Far from a child's store, this shop sells anything and everything that can make your sides split from laughter (in some cases, literally). Zonko's Joke Shop definitely has a rival in the Weasley Twins._

"And you said we shouldn't of trusted her," Fred muttered to his brother, as they read over their article, a few pages into the Daily Prophet.

"Well, you can never be too careful!" George defended, but grinned, "It certainly did help, though."

And it was true. The article had been published in the previous day's edition of the Prophet, and this morning? Their shop had been flooded with customers. It had remained fuller than usual all day, with people commenting on how they'd seen the article, and thought they'd come to the shop to see if all the hype had been right. Many of them had said it had.

"Hey, speaking of the article," George said, after a minute, "Did Freya Locke look a bit familiar to you?" It had been rolling around in his head for the past few days, and he just couldn't place where, or even, if he actually had, seen her before.

His suspicions were confirmed when Fred nodded.

"She did a bit, actually, yeah," He replied, and shrugged, "Dunno where from, though."

"Yeah, me either," George said, "Its been bugging me."

Fred nodded again, a thoughtful look on his face. "How old d'you reckon she was?" He asked. George furrowed his brow.

"Not that much older than us, why?"

"Maybe we saw her around at Hogwarts?" Fred suggested, "But she was in a different year… different House, too, probably, so we never really paid attention. Just passed her in the corridors and saw her in the Great Hall and stuff."

George nodded, "'S possible, yeah…"

There was a minute of silence, where both brothers tried to picture Freya Locked walking the halls of Hogwarts. Fred grimaced, "she was probably a Ravenclaw." George laughed, agreeing.

* * *

About a week later, Freya Locke walked into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Again, a hat with a large brim was pulled low over her face, although this one was a dark purple.

As she walked through the shop, she grinned. It was full of customers; children laughing over the toys, teenagers shouting and talking in corners, and parents trying to control their kids.

Over at one of the shelves, George, who was stacking boxes of Punching Telescopes, turned when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"…Can I help you?" he asked, noticing the woman with the hat wasn't holding any products to pay for. She raised her head, and George had to duck slightly to see under the brim.

"Oh! Freya! Uh… Miss Locke?"

"Freya's fine," She said, raising her voice so she could be heard over the noise, "Hello, Mr Weasley!"

"George is fine," He replied, grinning. Freya pulled off her hat, and ran a hand through her hair to fix it back into its precise ruffles.

"I just came by to see if the article had any affect," She smiled, looking around, "And I'm happy to see it has."

"Well," George shrugged, sliding another box onto the shelf, "it could just be coincidence. Or the fact that the school year just finished and kids who knew us from Hogwarts have come to see our amazing success, but we're willing to give you the credit."

Freya raised an eyebrow and smirked, leaning against the shelves, "Coincidence?" She asked, "Eh, maybe I'll take that. But I know for a fact that the school year doesn't finish for another four days, so there's no way Hogwarts kids are coming here. You have your success, at least let me play a part in it."

George sighed dramatically, bending down to pick up another box, "If you insist…"

"I'm afraid I do," Freya replied, smiling. George returned it, sliding the box onto the shelf.

Shaking her head and glancing down, Freya laughed to herself. "Anyway, I'm glad your shop is getting the recognition it deserves," She told him. George smiled at her, pushing the last box onto the shelf.

"Yeah, so are we," He replied. Freya rolled her eyes. "Hey, me and Fred were wondering… did you go to Hogwarts?"

Freya looked up, bemused, "Yeah, 'course. Doesn't everyone? Why?"

"Its just," George hesitated, "me and Fred thought you looked a bit familiar, and we thought we might've just seen you around Hogwarts…"

Freya cocked her head to the side, and a curious smile spread over her pink-painted lips. The smile looked a little bit mocking, a little bit knowing, and a little bit amused.

"Its possible," She said, "I certainly remember seeing you two around."

Her tone matched her smile, but, somehow, her words did not.

"Oh, right then… that makes sense," George replied, nodding. Although he was confused. Why did she look like she was laughing at him? Not _with_ him, like people usually were, but _at_ him.

"Yes, I'm sure it does," Freya replied, looking down at her hat and twizzling it in her hands nonchalantly.

"Ah… how much older than us were you, then? If we only saw you around, then you can't have been in the same year as us," He said. Freya nodded.

"Well, I left two years ago, and if this is meant to be your last year, I was only a couple years older. Third year when you were first, probably," Freya replied, figuring out the maths, "And I was in Ravenclaw, so you wouldn't of seen in the Common Room." She gave him a smile.

"We _knew_ you were in Ravenclaw!" A voice interrupted them. George turned, and Freya leaned to the side a bit to look around them, and they saw Fred walking over to them, dusting off his hands. Freya raised an eyebrow and looked at George, who shrugged.

"It was just guess…" He muttered. Freya laughed.

"Well, you guessed right," She nodded, "A lot of reporters seem to be Ravenclaws, actually… I think its something to do with having the curiosity and wanting to learn stuff about other people…"

"In other words, you're all nosy gits," Fred offered. Freya laughed, thinking she should be offended, but somehow, really wasn't.

"Yeah, that's another way of putting it, I guess," She replied, still chuckling. "Anyway, I'm glad your shop's doing well. Whether it's down to me or not," She shot George an amused look, and he grinned. Fred nodded.

"Yeah, we just had to hire another shop assistant!" Fred said excitedly, nodding his head to Verity, who was serving behind the till.

"I'll assume that's a good thing," Freya said, and she lifted her hat back to her head. "Anyway, I should go. You have customers to deal with, and I have more articles to write. Maybe I'll drop in some other time."

She tipped her hat down so the top half of her face was covered by the brim.

"See you later," George said. Fred nodded, and crossed his arms.

"And buy something next time you're here," He told her, "You can't keep wandering in and out like it's a museum."

Freya laughed, bid them goodbye, before turning and leaving. As she opened the door, she turned and lifted up her head so she could see them properly. She waved as she stepped out of the door, and the twins saw her make her way down the street through their window.

"Well, now we know why she looks familiar!" Fred announced.

"All the problems of the universe have been solved," George nodded, perfectly content that they had all the answers they needed.

* * *

**Well... this is the second chapter. A bit more about Freya, although you'll get more within the next few chapters. On another note, how do you think I'm doing with Fred and George? Are they in character? Is there anything I can do to improve?**

**Big, big thank you to Soniaham, who reviewed the last chappter :)**

**And on that note, please review!**


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